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Could you give us an overview of what you do?

My title is Director of Organizational Development for The Allender Center at 天美视频鈥攚hich, honestly, is really functioning like an Executive Pastor. I get to do leadership development for our staff at The Allender Center, creating consistent structures of communication, professional development, care, support. I鈥檓 also on faculty with The Allender Center, so I teach and work on the blog and podcast, as well as facilitating groups.

It鈥檚 interesting that all of those things鈥攆rom the relational to the technical to the administrative鈥攐ften fall under the role of pastor, too. Which raises another question: What does it mean to be a pastor?

I often joke that being a good pastor is just like being a good parent, but specifically in the realms of spiritual formation and identity development. When I think about a pastor, I think about someone who tells stories that help people locate themselves in a larger story. Both individually鈥斺�淲ho is God, and who are you?鈥� and collectively鈥斺�淲here have we come from, where are we now, where are we going?鈥� I think it鈥檚 about providing good care.

I often say that, vocationally and in my calling, I鈥檓 a pastor by orientation. I find that whether I鈥檓 working in a tea shop and serving people crepes and loose leaf tea, or working on an admissions team recruiting students to a graduate program.

I鈥檓 guessing the tea shop鈥檚 not hypothetical.

No, I worked at a loose leaf tea shop the year after I graduated from 天美视频.

Was there a period of finding it hard to identify as a pastor, since you weren鈥檛 in the traditional paid staff position at a church?

Two moments come to mind. First, I did not come to graduate school to become a pastor, even though I came to pursue an MDiv. I came from a tradition where women couldn鈥檛 be pastors, so I didn鈥檛 have much imagination for myself as a pastor. I came to 天美视频 because I thought I would be a professor. I knew I would do ministry, but I would maybe just do ministry through the academy. Then during my third year, Paul Steinke named me as a pastor. There was something about someone actually naming me pastor, inviting me to see that as part of my identity, that was really powerful.

And then, during our formational years at The Allender Center, there were some moments where we were in the midst of a lot of spiritual warfare and a lot of despair. I remember Dan was introducing me before the large group to teach, and he said, 鈥淩achael really is the pastor of The Allender Center.鈥� And as he said that, there was something that felt really true to me about that. It鈥檚 not a way I would necessarily have seen myself, but it was a way I was bringing myself in the midst of our team, calling us to remember who we are and who we鈥檙e called to be. So I felt like the unofficial pastor of The Allender Center, and then there鈥檚 the question of, what does it mean to be the pastor of a nonprofit? Is that sacrilegious?

It seems like there are layers: Something was going on inside you regarding your own identity and calling, but something else happens when others see that and name it. Why do you think that outward affirmation is so meaningful?

I think there鈥檚 something about anointing that is really important. We see that throughout the text, right? It鈥檚 something we鈥檙e meant for and made for: to have others bless aspects of our calling and identity and vocation. I think it鈥檚 why something like an ordination process holds so much meaning in the Church. There鈥檚 a way of anointing, honoring, and consecrating鈥攕etting apart a role. Though I think, at times in our culture, that setting apart means the role is elevated in a way that some people who have the esteem of pastor really abuse that power, and it creates this false dichotomy that people who are pastors or leaders in a ministry are actually doing ministry, not everyone else. That鈥檚 a really weak, thin theology, a really weak, thin missiology, a really weak, thin sense of what the Church actually is and how it functions.

This process of recognizing your pastoral gifting and embracing that and naming it true鈥攈ow has that journey clarified or refined how you understand calling?

I don鈥檛 see calling as being just connected to vocation. It鈥檚 far more expansive than that. It鈥檚 that sense of knowing that, no matter what I鈥檓 doing, it鈥檚 okay to bring these parts of myself.

And there is some mythology that calling is static, when I actually think it鈥檚 something that develops and grows and shifts. I think it does stay pretty consistent in its rootedness, but the fruit it bears can change in different seasons. So we always need to be growing and learning and have a posture of curiosity and a willingness to surrender to formational processes.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 see calling as being just connected to vocation. It鈥檚 far more expansive than that.鈥�

What would you say to somebody else who is recognizing aspects of their calling as a pastor, but also recognizing that it might come out in an unconventional context?

The more we know who we are, then we can make better decisions about where we want to give those parts of ourselves. Calling, again, is about more than vocation. Calling is about union, calling is about love鈥攊t鈥檚 always about love. So what are the really unique ways that you are equipped and gifted to love people and communities well? For some people, that will look like very traditional roles that have really clear boundaries, really clear definitions, and there鈥檚 nothing wrong with that. For others, it might mean you meander a bit, because there are certain skills you need to develop that go along with that calling. Some people might look at it and go, 鈥淥h, this is a real deviation from your calling,鈥� and I would say, 鈥淣o, I actually think it was preparing me to be more fully equipped for my calling.鈥�

So I would tell people, especially those who will find themselves in more unconventional spaces, we need healers and pastors and artists and therapists working in lots of different contexts. And it may not always look like the textbook. That doesn鈥檛 mean you鈥檙e not being faithful to live out your calling well.

Part of what we鈥檙e exploring is inspired by Barbara Brown Taylor鈥檚 language of your 鈥渁ltar in the world,鈥� and the idea that our work in the world is a form of worship. Do you want to say anything about that?

Oh, I really like that. I was just reading , and I love Paul鈥檚 language of living faithfully to what you鈥檝e been gifted鈥攁nd that鈥檚 going to look different for each person in different seasons, based on different giftings鈥攋ust be faithful to bring those gifts to the world in such a way that it is like a living sacrifice. I think we鈥檙e really scared of that word, sacrifice. And rightfully so鈥攖here鈥檚 been some theological and spiritual abuse that has used a word like sacrifice to maintain oppressive structures of power that are actually anti-Gospel. However, when we give of ourselves in a way that actually leads unto life, I think that鈥檚 that living sacrifice that Paul calls us to.

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The post Unconventional Pastor: An Interview with Rachael Clinton appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. -John 1:5

Yesterday was the Winter Solstice, one of the shortest days of the year and therefore also one of the darkest, at least for the Northern Hemisphere. As a stormborn woman of the Oklahoma plains I have learned to watch the sky and have cultivated a curiosity and a love of its nuances. For me it has become a spiritual practice, a way to listen and to pay attention and to encounter the Spirit.

Here in Seattle the sun rose at 7:54 a.m. and set at 4:19 p.m. Since the beginning of October we have only had about 10 days without rain, so with all the grey and the shortening of days, the darkness has felt more ominous. Compounding the literal lack of light with all that is unfolding in the world, it seems as though there is a spiritual darkness taunting, mocking, and threatening to stay, positioning itself as more powerful than the light. I can feel fear and despair in my bones, and I can see it taking up residence in the hearts of others.

And the truth is, these are turbulent and terrifying times. You only have to turn on the news for a few minutes before being haunted by images of ash-covered children crying for their mothers in the wake of another explosion in war-torn Syria (or Iraq, Afghanistan, or Palestine for that matter), or exhausted refugees fleeing the violence of their homeland, or another mass shooting at a school or workplace or gathering space in the U.S. The list goes on and on. It鈥檚 overwhelming and it does not take long for despair to creep its way in (and I haven鈥檛 even talked about racism, sexual abuse, climate change, economic disparity, and the personal tragedies we face).

I don鈥檛 say all of this to incite fear or stir up abstract political debate, but to simply name what is true. These are dark days.

I can鈥檛 imagine a more fitting time for the season of Advent, a season for lighting candles and remembering and anticipating Jesus, Emmanuel, God with us, bringing peace, hope, joy, comfort, and love. It has always been such a grace to me that as we move into some of the darkest days of our rotation around the sun, we also enter into the season full of light and hope. It鈥檚 typically a season that beckons one to sing hymns, to connect with family and friends, and to contemplate and to wonder.

But this Advent, I find myself questioning if we really believe the story we are celebrating. To be quite honest, even as a woman of unrelenting hope and profound courage, what has brought me the most despair in the past weeks has been the ways in which I have seen my fellow Christians allowing fear to blind them and fill them with hate. How are we supposed to be light and testify to light if we join or give into the darkness? This week alone, over 19 hate crimes have been committed on U.S. soil toward Muslims and their places of worship.

In my more honest and compassionate moments, I get it. I am a woman well acquainted with fear. I know how binding and haunting it can be. It鈥檚 too much鈥攁nd when we feel powerless, we grasp with wildness for some sense of security, even if it means 聽dehumanizing the person or people we perceive to be a threat or advocating for violence and justifying oppression. So as much as I want to blame Donald Trump for promoting and normalizing hatred and violence (which I do), I also know he is revealing and exploiting what is true in many of our hearts: we are deeply afraid and we have competing stories.

We have forgotten who we are. We are no longer slaves to fear. We are children of God. We are resurrection people. We鈥檙e wild, expectant, irrational, and some might even say foolish. We are not called to vengeance but forgiveness and even the radical call to love our enemies. When we enter those waters of baptism, we say that we give up our life and find it in Christ. We have not been promised that we will be protected from suffering or that hardship or peril will not come. We have been promised that there is nothing (not even a terrorist or a racist or a maniac with a gun鈥攏ot even death) that can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. We have been promised that when we don鈥檛 know how to pray, the very Spirit of God groans and intercedes on our behalf with language too deep for words.

We are people of the Spirit, filled with the fruits of the Spirit: Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, faithfulness, and self-control. We are anointed to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom to captives and release from darkness to prisoners. We are called to be a light to the world.

We are people of the Spirit, filled with the fruits of the Spirit.

We know our battle is not against flesh and blood but against principalities and powers. This does not mean that we compartmentalize the physical and the spiritual鈥攖hat tendency is part of what the Incarnation, the whole reason for the season, speaks against. But I want to say out loud that I believe we are dealing with something demonic that people with a lot of power are inviting us to join. Evil wants us to cower in fear and to turn our hearts toward our own mechanisms of security and safety which will always elevate one life over another.

It is in these moments where we are once again asked to put down our weapons of hatred, our weapons of false security, and to put on the armor of God. It is in these moments that it鈥檚 okay to say, 鈥淕od, I am afraid.鈥� It鈥檚 okay to cry out, 鈥淗ow long oh Lord.鈥� It鈥檚 okay to feel grieved in the places we believe and need help with our unbelief. It鈥檚 okay to admit that we need the Spirit鈥檚 help in loving our enemies (whether they be an ISIS terrorist or a Christian white supremacist). Love is not passive or docile, it鈥檚 active and provocative and transformative.

Love is not passive or docile, it鈥檚 active and provocative and transformative.

I long for the day when all will be well and evil will be dealt with, but until that day comes, I want to be a woman who lives as though death is never the end of the story and in truth, I cannot do that without you, my fellow brothers and sisters. May we encounter the radical presence of Jesus this Christmas, the one who knows what it is to live in this world, to encounter fear, to ache, to overcome death and to shine bright.

I love that the sky right now is telling the story. Light will come when we need it most. Here in the Pacific Northwest, we鈥檒l gain between one to three extra minutes of sunlight everyday, starting today, until the Summer Solstice in June. This year, more than ever, I need to be reminded that light does indeed shine in the darkness and will not be overcome. More than ever, I need to celebrate that Jesus has come and will come again. May it be so.

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